


empty hearts ;

by txfeebxn



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Past Relationship(s), Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:44:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txfeebxn/pseuds/txfeebxn
Summary: Wendy Testaburger is looking for a shoulder to cry on: Eric Cartman is that unlikely shoulder.





	empty hearts ;

**Author's Note:**

> Author sucks at summaries and writing.

_gunna b l8 sorry_

The cold wind bit at Wendy's cheeks as she hit the lock button on her phone without typing even the hastiest of replies. What was the point? Nothing she could say would make Stan come any faster: she knew from experience. She tugged the collar of her purple coat up around her throat against the winter air and settled back against the familiar cradle of the bench. Same bench, same coat (or at least, the same color and style), same _shit_. Wendy was stuck in a rut that wore the guise of security. But there was no comfort in that false security, and she was only just realizing that now, aged seventeen. Stan Marsh had been her boyfriend for years: just like her stupid coat, she didn't know anything else, and the prospect of change was terrifying. The plan was simple. She and Stan would marry, they'd settle in South Park. Colleges would make her enticing offers, but she'd politely decline in favor of a baby or two and the prospect of a monotonous but happy life with her childhood sweetheart. Her career prospects would never come to fruition and she would always have a sense of moldering resentment, but it all made sense. Everything was planned.

Although it appeared she was much more willing to make sacrifices than Stan. Once upon a time, the very sound of her voice had made him queasy: now, his overwhelming desire for her had been replaced with a rampant desire to chase a cheap high. Pot, cocaine, acid, whatever he could get his hands on. It was his vice, she always reasoned, everybody had them. It just happened that Stan had become Wendy's.

Her phone buzzed again.

_ cant make it babe _

_see u tmrw?_

And her heart sunk.

In resignation, she replied.

_ That's okay. Hope you're alright. _

_Rain-check? x_

Almost a full minute passed.

_its not raining lol _

_my house is free tmrw come ovr after school? _

_bring a condom i dont have 1_

Again, she hit the lock button. This time, she reached for her bag and extracted a single cigarette, which she lit with shaking hands. So maybe, she had two vices.

"Well, would you look at that? Hoe's got some bad habits after all."

She exhaled instead of groaning. "Mind your business, fatass. I know you smoke too."

"With that in mind, fancy sparing a fag for an old friend?"

"You're not my friend, and we don't even use that slang here."

"I know, it's just fuckin' funny."

The admission hung in the air for several moments before Wendy sighed and held out the packet. Eric took it, returned it, and then the bench creaked as he dropped down beside her.

"You got a light, bitch, or is this thing meant to ignite spontaneously?"

"Smartass."

They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence, systematically working through the remainder of Wendy's cigarettes. At some point, she couldn't pinpoint when, he moved closer to her and she didn't move away. The warmth of his body was a shocking but not unwelcome surprise. Finally, breaking the spell, he spoke again.

"So what, the stoner blew you off again, huh?"

"None of your business."

"He talks shit to us all the time, y'know. I switch off for the drug shit, but the stuff about you? I pay attention."

"I'm flattered."

"Fuckin' right!"

"Get to the point."

"If you want my opinion--"

"I don't."

"If you want my opinion, the guy's a dick. You could do way better."

She straightened up, and frowned. Then, she turned to look at him for the first time since offering her cigarettes.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Eric. Me and Stan, it's... complicated. But we're happy."

"Stan and I."

"What?"

"I'd expect you to be the grammar-Nazi here, Wendy."

"And you're the actual Nazi."

"I'm pissing myself laughing, I'm so seriously."

In spite of herself, she cracked a smile as she cast her gaze down to the floor to stub her final cigarette out with the toe of her boot.

"Thanks. Look, I gotta go, but it was... God, I can't believe I'm about to say this: it was nice hanging out."

"_This_ counts as hanging out to you? Jeez, Testaburger, you gotta get out more."

"I get out plenty. I'll see you around. I gotta get home."

She rose, and to her surprise, he did too.

"I'll walk you. It's dark." A pause. "And y'know, Stan would kill me if I let anything happen to his bitch."

"Sure." Another pause. "Thanks. Eric."


End file.
